


You are my destiny, my mantra

by Toomanyfandoms99



Series: Reality Weaver’s Web [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Reality, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angel Castiel, Castiel in the Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Drama, Dreams vs. Reality, Fluff, Heaven, Human Castiel, Hunter Dean Winchester, M/M, Reality Bending, Visions, dream - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-23 02:53:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20884949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toomanyfandoms99/pseuds/Toomanyfandoms99
Summary: “I know this seems kinda,” Dean blushed at the sight of Cas’s eyes piercing through him, “outta the blue an’ all, but,” he chuckled awkwardly, “I think you show know that I...I care about you.  A lot.”“Okay,” Cas said blandly, “I knew that.”“I mean,” Dean clenched his fist in a nervous tick, “I mean as...more than a friend.”





	You are my destiny, my mantra

**Author's Note:**

> This is the final part in my Reality Weaver series. It is also the one-year anniversary since I completed my first Supernatural series! 
> 
> The title was taken from the song “Legendary Lovers” by Katy Perry.

Dean awoke in his bunker bedroom with a gasp. 

His head shot up, his hands propping him on the mattress. He remembered how to breathe regularly.

Was that real?

Dean glanced at the clock. It read 10:35 AM.

He never slept this late. It must have been real.

He just had the wildest night ever. A supernatural being known as the Reality Weaver sent him on the mind trip of his life. 

It was a lot to process. He went to several alternate dimensions, wherever she took his mind, and he loved Cas fearlessly in every single one.

Realities where he was a bodyguard and Cas was a Pharaoh, where he was Persephone and Cas was Hades, where he was an alpha hunter and Cas was his courageous omega, where they both had a normal life as a mechanic and a professor.

Dean got out of bed unsteadily and went to his conjoined bathroom. He flicked on the shower, deciding his mind needed time to think. He showered and shaved his stubble quickly, losing himself in the motions of the usual routine.

It was near lunchtime when Dean emerged out of his bedroom and went to the war room, dressed in jeans and a blue flannel.

Sam and Jack were across from each other around the map table, in the middle of their respective lore books.

Sam noticed him first, raising an eyebrow. “You were dead as a doornail, man.”

“It’s true,” Jack murmured. “He made me poke you.”

Sam shot Jack a look. He shrugged and blushed sheepishly.

Dean put on his gravelly voice, his mind still working itself out in the background. “No cases, obviously?”

“No, you’re good,” Sam replied curtly. “Cas is making soup for lunch.”

“Alright. I’ll check on him,” Dean said casually.

Dean crossed the room and entered the kitchen.

Cas was dressed down in jeans Sam bought him the other week and an old tee of Dean’s. His back was to Dean as he tended to the large soup pot on the stove.

Dean cleared his throat, his mind screeching to a halt, the enormity of the situation hitting him at last.

He had admitted to a supernatural being that he loves Cas. She wanted him to tell Cas, come clean after years of pining quietly in the spaces between hunts.

Cas’s profile came into view. “Did you sleep well, Dean?”

“Yes.” Dean eyed him uncertainly, his thoughts ceasing. “Thank you.”

Cas turned around fully, leaving the stove flame on low heat. He arched an eyebrow. “Are you...ill?”

“No.” Dean curled his lip upwards in an effort to reassure him. “I’m okay.”

“Would you like chicken noodle soup?”

“Sure.” Dean pursed his lips. If he was going to do what he promised, he would have to say something now, or forever hold his peace. Since he didn’t very much feel like upsetting a supernatural being with incomprehensible power, he knew it would have to be now. “Um. Can we talk?”

“We are talking.”

Dean shifted from foot to foot, trying not to lose his nerve. “I meant...about something.”

“I see.” Cas turned the dial on the burners even lower, then directed his attention to Dean. “Yes?”

“I know this seems kinda,” Dean blushed at the sight of Cas’s eyes piercing through him, “outta the blue an’ all, but,” he chuckled awkwardly, “I think you show know that I...I care about you. A lot.”

“Okay,” Cas said blandly, “I knew that.”

“I mean,” Dean clenched his fist in a nervous tick, “I mean as...more than a friend.”

He said it like he was forcing it out, and there was tension in the air afterwards, for the longest beats of his life.

“Ah,” Cas folded his arms, “I see. You’ve come to terms with it.”

Dean’s mouth fell open, his body at a standstill. “C-come to terms with it?” His mind spiraled as to what that meant, and he nearly fainted. “You knew?!”

A mixture of relief and incredulousness filled Dean’s veins, and he didn’t know what to feel.

Cas smiled bitterly. “I have watched many of your ‘rom coms’ over the years. I am far better at understanding humans than I used to be.”

“O-of course. Of course you are.” Dean frowned, trying to piece together instances that illustrated Cas understood what was happening. “How did you know?”

“I knew of my own feelings for you long ago,” Cas revealed. “You, as they say, ‘clued me in’ with nonverbal cues.”

“And you didn’t,” Dean furrowed his brows, “say anything? Why?”

Cas batted his long eyelashes a single time. He replied demurely, “it is not my job to tell you what you feel. You must realize it in your own time.”

“So you’ve been,” Dean said exasperatedly, “waiting all this time for me to make the first move?”

“Yes.”

Dean’s mind was reeling once again. “Why didn’t you make the first move, if you knew I was into you?”

“I needed you to be sure of yourself. Therefore, it was always you that had to make,” Cas did air quotes, “‘the first move.’”

Despite wanting to snap, Dean laughed instead. He laughed and laughed, his head tipping back as he looked at the ceiling and smiled.

What an idiot he was.

“Alright.” Dean chuckled, grinning at Cas because he didn’t know how else to react. “Have I been a fool all this time?”

Cas’s side smile brightened his gorgeous tan skin and lively blue eyes. “I would never call you a fool.”

“But you’re thinking it.”

Cas’s mouth curved slyly. “You like to pick fights when you’re avoiding an uncomfortable topic. I never noticed that until now.” Cas stepped forward slowly, halting a respectful distance from Dean. “Isn’t there something you’re forgetting to do?”

Dean scoffed, redness consuming his neck and cheeks. “I’m not sure what’ll happen...if we...if we.”

Cas nodded in understanding. “I suppose it is my turn to take the leap.”

Then, Cas framed Dean’s face in his hands, pressing their lips together lightly, barely the brush of a feather.

Dean exhaled shakily, the quick touch intoxicating in its simplicity. He desperately wanted more, so he brought their lips together again, and again, and again. They breathed in tandem between each peck, holding each other in an embrace so tight Dean felt his ribcage ache.

Cas gave Dean’s lips one final drag, parting with a soft exhale. His half-lidded eyes and splayed palms were Dean’s entire world, the way Cas’s eyes looked at him adoringly and the way Cas’s hands held his face gently. 

It was all Dean knew, and all he wanted to know.

At a loss for coherent words, Dean murmured, “I dreamt we loved one another in multiple worlds.”

Cas didn’t even bat an eye. “That sounds like a lovely dream.”

————

Nothing could sour Dean’s mood after that.

Injuries that nearly had him bleeding out on foreign motel floors? They were scratches. He had a gorgeous boyfriend who would heal him if it got really bad.

A hunt gone wrong? They’ll do better next time. Dean had Cas at his side through it all, and that was something to celebrate.

The big bad was being a pain? It didn’t matter. They would lick their wounds and return to the bunker. Dean would have a Dr. Sexy marathon while he healed, Cas curled at his side.

It became clear to Sam and Jack eventually that they were in a relationship. Dean or Cas didn’t make any grand declarations, simply acting with more intent than normal. Touching each other often, brushing shoulders and sharing smiles.

Neither of them were idiots. They recognized the signs of Dean and Cas being more than they let on previously.

They hardly said anything about it. Dean considered it a ‘don’t ask don’t tell’ policy. He figured they wouldn’t want to know the details of his relationship with Cas.

He had gotten really mushy. Like, really mushy.

Dean couldn’t control his face when Cas was in the room. He had to smile, or send Cas his heart eyes, or give him an appreciative glance, because damn, Cas was ridiculously hot and Dean was so incredibly lucky.

Dean even handed Cas flowers a few times. As in genuinely went to a shop and bought Cas bouquets.

Sam and Jack hadn’t caught Dean yet, but he knew they would soon.

Cas would blush a little every time he received a bouquet, spending nights naming all the flowers and describing their meaning. Dean would sit with his chin in his hands like a lovesick puppy, allowing Cas to speak to his heart’s content. His knowledge was endless, and Dean found himself more in awe of Cas every day.

Sam and Jack didn’t address it until weeks later, when the honeymoon period was over and the angst crept in on Dean again.

More like reality.

Oh, he could laugh at himself.

Cas was on a grocery run, wanting to stretch his legs and give his car a drive. Dean was at the war room table, biding his time on a laptop Sam didn’t use. Dean was scanning through police databases, searching for anything unusual that required their immediate attention.

Sam cleared his throat, and Dean’s gaze slid to his lumbering form, which dropped into a seat across from him. Dean heard Jack sit next to Sam, his uncertainty clueing Dean in on what was about to happen.

What Dean didn’t expect was to watch Sam go from completely serious to a complete loon in seconds.

“I’m happy for you,” Sam said, his grin large enough to make Dean question if his little brother was secretly a serial killer.

It was food for thought, that was for sure.

Jack was every inch the perplexed puppy as he glanced between the brothers. “You aren’t going to ask him?” He said to Sam confusedly.

Sam leveled Dean with his gaze. 

“I did,” Sam said confidently.

Dean glanced downwards, and inclined his head. “Thank you,” he said, his tone too soft and gentle and revealing for his liking.

Sam did not tease him. Instead, Sam stood up, rounded the table, and yanked Dean into a strange hug, arms curled over Dean’s shoulders as he sat in his chair. Sam’s forehead tipped down, brushing Dean’s hair, and they stayed in that position for a few beats, neither brother speaking against it.

Sam stepped back with a shoulder pat, which said, ‘I’m glad you’re at peace.’

Jack lingered as Sam left, and he had to nudge his head. Jack jumped out of his chair in puzzlement, leaving Dean alone.

Cas returned moments later, and the encounter was never spoken of again.

————

Dean was in a state of limbo.

Ever since Cas kissed him in the bunker kitchen, he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. They may be happy, testing out the new state of their relationship, but they would never be free.

The monsters wouldn’t fuck off to another dimension because Dean wanted them to. There would always be work to do, and it would always hinder their relationship.

Dean knew he would never get the life he wanted with Cas. He knew it from the moment he acknowledged his pent-up feelings and acted upon them. Dean would have to make peace with it, and he would, but it would take a long time.

Until then, Dean hunted, asking Cas to hang around more and help. Cas did, since he had nothing to run away from anymore. Dean also bonded with Jack the best he could, with Sam and Cas teaming up together more often too.

Dean appreciated this quiet time, but he knew it would come to an end soon enough.

Dean sighed, leaning back in his war room chair. He had been reading the lore Sam read for fun — the kid was odd — and was getting bored.

And of course, that’s when it happened.

Not even the extensive bunker wards could prevent an actual goddamn vortex from appearing above the war room table, the blue hole in space spitting out a large leather-bound book.

It fell onto the map table with a resounding thump, and Dean was grateful Cas, Sam, and Jack were on a joyride.

Dean watched the vortex blink out of existence like it was never there at all. He leaned over the table, standing up.

A note with Dean’s name was strapped to the book, and he took the yellowed piece of paper. He turned it over, a message written in neat handwriting on the back.

‘Dean,

I can sense your boredom from several dimensions away. As a gift, take a lost piece of history: the incomplete recordings of Ancient Egypt, as written by another Sam Winchester, in a far-off world and time. Since I am breaking the laws of time and space by giving this to you, hide it someplace outsiders will not find it. I hope this book will bring you comfort.

The Reality Weaver’

Dean tucked the note in his jacket pocket, and brought the book closer to his chair. He sat down and opened the leather cover.

His brother’s handwriting was staring back at him.

Dean’s mouth fell open. “Good God,” he said to himself. “Freaky Friday.”

The first pages were topographical maps drawn by several sources. They were detailing a city in Egypt with a name he could not pronounce. A river ran all around it, districts based upon inherited jobs placed in certain areas. A pyramid palace rested to the north, large and imposing, even as a drawing on a map.

Memories that were not Dean’s own filtered through his mind, triggered by the following written pages. He was reminded of his acid trip dreams to other realities, an occurrence he could never really forget.

He was a guard in Egypt. He remembered now.

And Cas was the Pharaoh.

Dean started flipping through pages as if possessed, reaching a section detailing the reign of one Castiel Antonius.

Dean read through the pages quickly, absorbing all the information in a frenzy.

Apparently, Castiel Antonius was the secret son of Marcus Antonius and Cleopatra. They killed themselves during a siege, and a young Cas was spirited away from the country by loyal advisors and noblemen. Cas travelled from country to country undetected, moving around often so as to not arouse suspicion. Cas returned to Egypt when he was a young man, brutally killing the oppressive foreign rulers that had taken over Egypt. Cas reclaimed his throne and reigned until he was the ripe old age of sixty, bringing about a rare age of prosperity and peace.

Dean read the next sentence, and nearly fainted.

Castiel Antonius, from a few years after his reign began until his death, had a right hand man. An advisor he trusted with his life, and remained his guard for decades.

His name was Dean Winchester.

This was what the Reality Weaver meant by the book bringing him a sense of comfort. It was comforting. 

Creepy, yes, but also comforting.

The bunker’s metal door unlatched, and Dean jumped in surprise. He shut the book, placing the note inside. He found a space on a lesser-used shelf and slid it there, hoping it would not be noticed.

Dean arrived back at the map table just as Cas descended the stairs, followed by Sam and Jack talking animatedly.

Dean caught Cas’s disgruntled expression and smiled innocently. “Have fun?”

Cas groaned in answer, Dean chuckling and boldly tossing his arms around Cas’s neck. Dean made to lean in, and Cas met his lips in the middle.

“Ew,” Jack commented, brushing past the couple. “Not in the war room.”

“My book space is sacred,” Sam agreed, following Jack into the kitchen.

Once they were gone, Dean grinned and kissed Cas some more.

Cas kept pace with him gladly.

————

The Reality Weaver’s communications with Dean did not end there. The book was only the beginning.

In the nights when Cas didn’t sleep beside him, he saw images from the worlds she showed him that fateful night.

The first set of images were of a meadow being torn in half, a hand grabbing onto another Dean’s shirt and pulling him onto a black chariot. The images played like a short film the night after, a video there and gone fairly quickly, then replaying on a loop several times.

The accompanying set, which Dean gauged were from the same reality, showed this world’s Cas, clad in black and swathed in darkness, but his eyes as piercing as ice. It showed a field of orange grass, looking more like fire than growth. It showed bejeweled eyes on a black stallion, unseeing and glittering. 

The images changed abruptly the night after that, showing shackled shadows walking to an unknown destination, that world’s Cas observing the other Dean like he was an interesting puzzle, and a vision of the two of them intertwined together, lying in bed with no worries or fears after a wedding.

Hades and Persephone, his mind supplied.

Dean absently wondered why the Reality Weaver was doing this to him. Did she think he was invested?

Maybe he was. Just a little bit.

When Dean fell asleep without more images, he learned it was because Cas was there beside him. He had returned after a week-long hiatus, tired and dead on his feet. Dean ushered Cas to his bed wordlessly, and Cas slept nonstop for nearly twelve hours. During that time, Dean fell asleep for five of those hours, but no images came. He spent the rest of those hours observing Cas sleep in a not-creepy way, making sure he was still breathing and calm.

If anyone deserved peace, it was him.

After a week of Cas sleeping in his bed, Dean didn’t know how it was initiated, but they had sex for the first time.

Like, shy, slow, sweet sex. The kind that Dean had never experienced before.

It devastated him, to say the least. It hit him hard how much Cas meant to him in that moment, with Cas asleep, hair covering his face, completely unbothered in his strange position, sheets thrown over his lower half without much thought as to who saw what.

Cas hardly left his side for a month afterwards, and Dean was too lovesick to care about visions or supernatural beings.

————

Dean had almost forgotten about the dreams entirely when they returned. Cas was away with Jack, and Dean assured him it was alright to go. Dean forgot about his troubles with sleep when Cas was there, but he remembered soon enough.

The next images were from the weirdest reality of them all, the one where there were such things as alphas and omegas. People meant to be animalistic breadwinners and people meant to bear children.

It was odd, to Dean, that he was the alpha. He always thought it would be Cas. But the more Dean saw of an omega Cas from another reality, the more he realized that Cas was not a regular omega by any means. That Cas was special, so much like his Cas and very much not his Cas at all.

Alternate reality Cas was the fiercest omega in the village, which was made abundantly clear. Even whilst pregnant, an idea that weirded Dean out still, Cas attacked invaders and won every time. He was positively captivating, and he was glad the alternate Dean recognized his differences and celebrated them.

When Dean started seeing visions of children, he would admit that he woke up with tears in his eyes.

He had always liked children. Being a father always was a far-flung dream, and now, it truly has become a dream.

The only thought that made Dean feel better was the fact that he had Jack in his world, and that he was glad another Dean had the opportunity to be a father.

————

The Reality Weaver showed herself again several weeks later.

Cas had come and gone again, Dean making the most of their time before a police report indicated that angels were on the move. That required Cas and Jack to drive three states over, and Dean let him go without any fuss.

Dean went to sleep after drinking some beer, Sam monitoring his progress so he didn’t get too drunk. Dean had gotten better in regards to his alcoholism, but he was still trying.

In Dean’s dream haze, the Reality Weaver returned to his mind, and she did not look the same. She seemed to switch bodies constantly, choosing a new woman to inhabit every reality and instance. This woman had brown skin, black hair, and black eyes. Dean was reminded of a cross between Billie and a demon.

He didn’t like either comparison.

“Hello again,” the Reality Weaver said. “How’s your life going?”

Dean squinted his eyes and tilted his head to the side, realizing absentmindedly that he was mimicking Cas. Again.

“You want something,” Dean parsed out. “What is it? I did as you asked.”

“Yes,” she said, “you did.”

“You said I didn’t owe you,” Dean said, an eyebrow arching. “Liar.”

“I do not want something,” she clarified. “I am merely warning you.”

Dean scoffed, tears welling up in his eyes. He said bitterly, “I should have fucking known better than to listen to you.”

“Hey,” the Reality Weaver said softly, “you will both be fine, if you do as I say.”

Dean observed her through his eyelashes. “And what’s that?”

“Heaven is going to have another reckoning tomorrow right. You must drive to these coordinates,” she listed off numbers, “in order to catch Castiel before he loses his grace.”

Dean put the full weight of his gaze on the woman, unable to blink as he murmured, “are you telling the truth? Is Heaven going to fall?”

“I have seen it,” she said. “I want to prevent Castiel from harm as much as you do. Heed my warning.”

“And why,” Dean asked suspiciously, “do you want to help us again, if there is nothing you want in return?”

The Reality Weaver shrugged. “I’m invested. How about that?”

Dean sighed. “I won’t ask, then. Fine.” He crossed his arms. “You better not be tricking me.”

“Girl Scout’s honor,” she chimed.

She snapped her fingers, and Dean woke up in his own bed.

————

Dean paced around the field in the middle of Stupidass, Nowhere, feeling more ridiculous by the minute.

It wasn’t until the sky opened up that Dean was shocked, in disbelief that the Reality Weaver was telling the truth after all.

Dean stood at the exact coordinates, and watched the stars fall like meteors.

One light shined brighter than all the others, and was in his direction, coming towards him, closer and faster.

Dean squeezed his eyes shut, planted his feet, and held out his arms.

The impact had him on his knees, gritting his teeth as a glowing body encompassed his arms.

He waited for a long moment, waiting for the lights behind his eyelids to recede. When they did, he squinted.

Wide blue eyes blinked back at him, a shaking hand touching his cheek. Finger pads brushed his stubble, and Dean heard Cas’s weak, “Dean?”

Dean sat with his legs tucked underneath his thighs, a combination of ash and crumbling feathers around him, on his jeans, on his jacket, on the ground.

This was what the Reality Weaver brought him here to stop.

Dean studied Cas’s pale face and pressed his cheek against Cas’s palm. “It’s me,” he said soothingly, “it’s okay.”

He cradled Cas’s head on his thighs, body slumped to one side. Dean roved his eyes over Cas, finding no breaks or serious injuries on a simple inspection.

Glowing blue liquid dripped from Cas’s eyes, and Dean stuck a hand in his pocket. He closed his fingers around a flask and brought it out, catching grace tears patiently.

Cas observed the motion with a lagging mind, muttering, “it doesn’t matter, Dean. You don’t have to save it.”

“Yes,” Dean removed the flask after the final tear, snapping it closed, “I do.”

Cas stared at him, trying to crack open his mind and look inside it, pull his secrets apart one-by-one and examine them critically.

Dean offered, “you never know when you’ll need more grace. It’ll go down the hatch whenever you need it, alright?” He stuck the flask in his jacket pocket, and smoothed out Cas’s wild hair. “How do you feel?”

“Frankly,” Cas said, “I feel like shit.”

Dean’s mouth curled upwards. “There ya go, Cas. That’s very honest. I like that.” He leaned down, pressing a kiss to Cas’s forehead before his mind could tell him it was stupid. “Let’s get you in the car.”

—————

That night was the end and the beginning of a new chapter.

Cas was human after his fall, and he didn’t mind it as much as Dean thought he would. 

There was an adjustment period, but it was okay. He had three people there for him every step of the way, teaching him what he had to learn about being human.

Dean knew a time would come when Cas would need that flask of grace. The Reality Weaver might return and tell him when the danger was coming, and Cas would have to down it. They would get swept up in the wave of chaos once again, the wave that never stopped.

Until then, though, Dean enjoyed the down time, and prayed that he would get to be at peace with Cas for as long as possible.

Dean wasn’t one to hope for happiness, but he thinks, after months of peace, that the Reality Weaver was truly listening after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to everyone who follows my work. Since I just started an internship while taking college classes, my weekly fics will either be shorter (from an upcoming adventure series) or codas written throughout the final season.
> 
> Kudos and comments are appreciated!


End file.
